Page 31 of Heal Me

“Famous last words. Sit down and tell me everything.”

And that’s the problem. For the first time in my life, I can’t tell my mom everything. “I noticed the new bookstore next door. When did that happen?” I not so subtly change the subject.

“Mr. Carlson just opened last week,” my mom says with a look I know all too well.

“And you like him,” I guess.

She swats away my question with flushed cheeks. “He’s just a friend.”

“Famous last words—isn’t that what you just told me?” I tease.

“Wash up,” she orders, and I do as instructed. Mom hands me a piping bag filled with chocolate buttercream, and I help frost a batch of birthday cupcakes. I’m not as skilled as my mom, but being the perfectionist that I am, I make sure all my buttercream swirls are consistent and uniform.

The afternoon passes quickly, and glancing at my watch, I say, “I need to get back to Memphis.” I don’t tell her the reason I need to get back is because tonight I’m performing a ritual with my witch circle, as we’re not ready for that conversation yet. Baby steps for this baby witch.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, young lady. I want to meet this new boyfriend,” she chastises as she boxes up a few cookies for me to go,

“Now he’s upgraded to boyfriend status?” I laugh.

“Why wouldn’t he want to be your boyfriend?” she demands. “You’re smart. Kind. Beautiful. Thoughtful. Generous. A fabulous cook. And pastry-chef-level cupcake decorator. Shall I continue?”

“Not if I want to make it home before midnight,” I tease. As an only child, my mom thinks I hung the moon.

Hugging her goodbye, I make the drive back to my apartment. “Hey, Doogie.” My cat greets me as I walk inside. My phone chimes and I check the message. Relieved it isn’t my mom—maybe today’s talk actually sunk in—I’m also disappointed it isn’t Gabe. Instead, it’s a group text from Stephanie reminding everyone about study group this evening.

Ignoring the text, I slip on a black sweater, black leggings, and black sandals, and then give my hair a quick brush and apply some red lip gloss. Fastening my new red garnet pendant, I hold my hands over it and envision protective energy pouring into it. Aubry’s aunt gifted me this particular stone due to its power to block energy vampires.

Stepping out of my room, I nearly run headlong into Jen. “Oh my goodness, you scared me,” I say, clutching my hand over my heart. She’s always at Elliot’s, so I wasn’t expecting to see her.

“Where are you going?” She eyes my outfit, and then my pendant. “We have study group.”

“Oh, I’m taking a pass,” I say. “Tell everyone I said hi, and I’ll catch up next time.”

“This isn’t you, skipping out on study group. Where are you going?” she demands.

“This is me, and not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to hang with some friends.”

“You mean those new witch friends?”

“See you later, Jen,” I say, envisioning a golden circle of protection around my aura as I walk past her. I refuse to let her sour attitude mess with my vibe.

Making the short drive to Memphis Magic, I ring the doorbell. “Hey there,” Aubry answers. “Excited about tonight’s ritual?” she asks, giving me a hug and leading me inside the shop.

“Excited and nervous,” I answer truthfully. I’ve only been to one ritual, but that was focused on Aubry releasing Damion. Tonight, the focus is on me. “Okay, more nervous than excited.”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” she reassures me. “The waning moon is the perfect time to perform a releasing ritual.” She thinks for a moment. “My aunt isn’t here, but she’d probably suggest some movement to shake away the nerves.”

“Where is Callie?” I ask.

“I dropped her off this afternoon at the airport. She’s gone to a women’s meditation retreat in Costa Rica. I think dating a murderous angel messed with her head,” she tells me quietly.

“I’m sure it would,” I agree.

“So this one, I think, is called ‘knocking on heaven’s door,’” Aubry says, and begins swinging her arms back and forth, faster and faster. “Move your arms like me, envisioning the nervous energy shaking off you.”

I watch her for a moment, trying to mimic her movement. It feels like I’m just flailing my arms about, but I keep it up, positioning my lower half firmly in place as I twist at the waist and let my arms go back and forth. Sure enough, I feel the nervous energy start to dissipate.

“What on earth are you girls doing?” Florence Ingram asks, joining us.

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